The next morning, Isabella took her customary place between the circulating library and stationer’s. William’s words had struck home and, having recovered her mantle and smoothed it as best she could, she was now wearing it over the lavender outfit. It certainly wasn’t in the condition she was used to, yet she couldn’t bear to think of her aunt being cold. Vowing that from now on she’d be more considerate of the needs of the family who’d taken her in, she intended to sell as many bunches of violets as she could for their full price. She would then take the rest to the sisters’ house – if she could find her way, that was.
Putting her hand inside her collar, she ran her fingers over her mama’s pearls, comforted as ever by their presence. Knowing her aunt wouldn’t have approved of her wearing them into town, she’d concealed them under her jacket before leaving the cottage, and hopefully today they would prove a tangible link to her past. Patting her collar back into place, she smiled at the early-morning shoppers in an effort to entice them to stop and buy.
It was to no avail as everyone hurried by without even acknowledging her. A bitter wind blew up, bringing with it the strong smell of salt and seaweed, and before long she was so cold, she could hardly feel her feet.
‘Here you are, dear.’ The woman from the stationer’s appeared at her side, holding out a steaming mug.
‘Oh, er, thank you,’ Isabella replied. She was about to say she never partook of refreshment in the street but the delightful aroma of coffee proved too tempting. Taking it gratefully from her, she glanced left and right then drank it quickly. The hot liquid tantalized her tastebuds and warmed her insides. ‘That was delicious, and most welcome. Thank you again,’ she said, handing back the empty mug. The woman grinned.
‘You looked as though you needed it. Winter’s certainly blowing itself in with a roar, isn’t it? Look, why don’t you stand behind my sign? It’ll help keep the wind off you. Not having much luck with the flowers, then?’ she said, gesturing towards Isabella’s overflowing basket.
‘I guess it’s too cold for people to stop,’ Isabella sighed. The woman eyed her doubtfully.
‘Perhaps if you looked a little less affluent they’d find you more approachable,’ she suggested. ‘Tell you what, I’ll take a bunch. A spot of colour will liven up my counter,’ she said, producing a couple of coins from her pocket. Isabella smiled gratefully and handed over the violets. Then, as the woman turned to leave, she remembered her uncle.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen Uncle Bill, have you?’
‘Gone off again, has he? Let me think now,’ she murmured, staring out over the green opposite. ‘I do recall seeing him hurrying in the direction of the rhyll, stupid man. Still, if it helps him forget, you can’t blame him, can you? Oops must go, customer waiting.’ The woman bustled off leaving Isabella to ponder what she’d been told.
What on earth was he doing at the rhyll, Isabella wondered, remembering the seedy place he’d rescued her from. As three smartly dressed ladies approached, she smiled and held out her basket. Despite her fine clothes, they raised their immaculate brows, tutted to each other and crossed the street and began walking along the green. ‘Stuck-up toffs,’ she muttered. Then, realizing what she’d said, she laughed. Goodness, what had Dotty said about her now being working-class?
As another gust of wind lifted her skirts and tugged at the ribbons on her hat, she turned to take shelter behind the sign. Just then someone tapped her on the shoulder.
‘Hello, dear.’ She spun round to see the two sisters beaming at her. They were dressed in their customary black outfits, the berries on their hats bobbing up and down as they greeted her.
‘Good morning, Agnes, Miriam,’ she cried happily.
‘My, you are looking pretty today,’ Agnes gushed, taking in Isabella’s outfit. ‘Is that new?’
‘Goodness me, no. It’s one Gaskell, my chaperone, packed for me.’
‘Ah, I thought it had the style of the city about it,’ Agnes nodded. ‘Actually, my dear, we thought we’d come and see if you still wanted to join our little meeting this afternoon?’
‘Indeed, I do,’ Isabella told them. The sisters beamed again then exchanged a look.
‘I see you’ve still got lots of flowers left,’ Miriam remarked, glancing in her basket.
‘We nearly bought some yesterday from a woman with black curls and gold hoops in her ears. Quite insistent, she was, but we know violets don’t last long and feared they might wilt before our meeting today,’ Agnes added.
‘You would have purchased them cheaper, though,’ Isabella replied, recalling the lady from the beach.
‘Oh no, dear, she was selling them for the same price as you,’ Miriam frowned. Well, of all the cheek, Isabella thought, but the sisters were linking their arms through hers. ‘Come along, we’ve a seance to arrange,’ they cried.
As they hurried her through the streets, Isabella tried hard to remember the way. The last thing she wanted was to lose her bearings again. However, the sisters moved at such a pace that all too soon they were letting themselves into the house they were leasing. Isabella was ushered down the hall with its familiar smell of beeswax, rose petals and that other fragrance she couldn’t discern, then into the same room as before. This time a fire was blazing brightly in the hearth.
‘Now, let Miriam take your basket then we’ll have a nice drink to warm up. It’s certainly bitter out there,’ Agnes told her, holding her hands to the fire. ‘Miriam has made a special tart for our luncheon, with Naples bisket grated over egg yolks and cream, all seasoned with nutmeg, cinnamon and sugar.’ She touched her fingers to her lips and kissed them theatrically.
‘But I couldn’t finish it without these,’ Miriam cried, holding out the violets.
‘Goodness, you put flowers in your tart?’ Isabella frowned.
‘It is the pièce de résistance,’ Miriam nodded. ‘We put flowers in everything.’ The sisters looked at each other and giggled. ‘I’ll drop these into the kitchen and make us a nice tisane.’
‘And I’ll take your mantle, dear, or you won’t feel the benefit when you leave.’ As Agnes held out her hand, Isabella shrugged off the garment and gave it to her.
‘I can’t get over how different you look,’ Agnes enthused, her eyes settling on the pearls at Isabella’s neck. ‘Quite the young lady. Although that worn mantle doesn’t do you justice, if you don’t mind my saying. And this lovely necklace was your mother’s?’ she asked taking a step closer and scrutinizing the ropes.
‘Yes, these are the pearls I mentioned last time. Do you think they will help Mama to, er, come through?’ she asked, trying to remember the term Agnes had used.
‘They might,’ Agnes nodded. ‘Of course, I shall need to feel them, hold them, soak up their aura.’
‘They have an aura?’ Isabella asked, unfastening the clasp and placing them in her outstretched hand.
‘Of course. They will have absorbed your mother’s life force,’ the woman explained, running her fingers over the stones. ‘Such lustre and size, so nearly perfectly round,’ she murmured. ‘These pearls must surely be natural?’ she asked, giving Isabella a keen look.
‘Goodness, yes. Papa adored Mama and would only give her the best. Why, does it make a difference then?’
‘Oh yes,’ she said, a gleam sparking in her eyes. ‘Now, hush for a moment while I try to capture their essence.’ Agnes closed her eyes and slowly ran her finger over each pearl.
‘Will they make Mama come through, then?’ Isabella asked, too excited to be quiet.
‘You’ll need to be patient, child, sometimes it takes longer than others.’
‘But Papa nearly came through last time, didn’t he?’ Isabella persisted.
‘Have you brought something of your papa’s as well?’ Agnes asked, her eyes snapping open. Isabella shook her head.
‘I don’t really have anything, although I know Uncle brought some of his things back from Chester Square after his fun—’ As the tears begin to well, her voice trailed off. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered, taking out her handkerchief and dabbing her eyes.
‘No need to apologize, my dear. Grief can hit at the most unexpected times and yours is still very raw. Ah, here’s Miriam with our tisanes,’ she said.
‘Just what the doctor ordered,’ Miriam smiled, handing her a glass in its silver holder. Isabella smiled her thanks, inhaling the heady aroma which seemed stronger than she remembered.
‘Now, drink up, it will make you feel brighter,’ Agnes instructed. Isabella duly sipped the fragrant liquid and before long felt that blanket of tranquillity wrap itself around her once more. In fact, she relaxed so much she hardly noticed the conversation going on around her. Then she became aware of the sisters staring at her.
‘Feeling better now?’ Agnes asked. Isabella smiled for her spirits had lifted and she was feeling quite insouciant.
‘I’m pleased to see you have a much better colour,’ Miriam told her. ‘Now, we need to partake of luncheon if we are to be finished before our dear ladies arrive,’ she added, handing her a plate upon which nestled a delicate tartlet. This time she was also given a pastry fork. ‘I made this especially for today so do let me know what you think.’ As Isabella cut into it, the pastry flaked and the filling smelled sweet-scented and quite heady.
‘Goodness, I didn’t or have such an effect. You know bisket could taste so exquisite or have such an effect. You said you added flowers, which did you use?’ she asked. The sisters looked at each other and giggled again.
‘Sorry you must forgive us. Not many people appreciate our culinary skills. We use violets, primroses, poppy tears, even strawberries, whatever’s in season at the time,’ Miriam told her. Isabella blinked, did she say tears? Before she could check, the woman got to her feet. ‘Talking of flowers, I must go and finish my nostr—er, nosegays.’ As she left the room, Isabella looked over at Agnes but the woman had her eyes closed and was stroking the pearls again. The room was quite hot now and, feeling her own lids growing heavy, Isabella sat back in her seat. She must have dropped off for, the next thing she knew, Agnes was patting her shoulder.
‘Time for our meeting.’ Groggily Isabella got to her feet. Then she saw Agnes was holding out her pearls.
‘Do you think Mama will come through?’ she asked again.
‘One can never be sure,’ she sighed. ‘I haven’t had much time to really absorb the pearls’ spirit, but we can try. Now, do you have the case for them?’
‘Oh, don’t worry, I can fasten them back on now,’ Isabella said. Agnes shook her head. ‘Sorry, dear, I make it a rule never to have material goods of the deceased in the room in case it interferes with the spiritual energy.’
‘I understand,’ Isabella replied, delving into her pocket and drawing out the satin-lined case.
‘Thank you, dear. Now, don’t get your spirits up,’ she gave a titter at her own joke. ‘Your mama may or may not come through this time. We shall have to wait and see,’ she said, leading the way into the room where the meetings were held.
It was set out the same as before, the three candlesticks interspersed with the large bowls of violets emitting their musky scent. Miriam carefully set down the bread and soup then bustled away while Agnes drew the drapes and lit the candles. Isabella’s heart fluttered, whether from nerves or anticipation she couldn’t be sure.
‘Good luck, dear. Now, close your eyes,’ she whispered as the door opened and the visitors began filing in. Once again Isabella couldn’t resist peeping and saw they were all inhaling the tiny posies of flowers. As they passed her chair, she caught a trace of the stronger scent she didn’t recognize. She really must remember to ask the sisters what it was.
As Agnes instructed them to hold hands, Isabella’s curiosity was replaced by excited anticipation, and she found her heart racing. The seance proceeded exactly the same way as before but, to her dismay, although several spirits made their presence known through Agnes, none were those of her dear mama or papa. She closed her eyes tightly and focused on their images as if, by doing that, she could conjure them up. It was to no avail, though, as when the final thanks were given and everyone rose to leave, she was left with acute disappointment and a crashing headache.
‘You mustn’t be disheartened, my dear,’ Agnes said, closing the door behind the last guest and turning to Isabella. ‘This is only your first real participation.’
‘But I so wanted to hear from one of them at least,’ she cried.
‘As I said earlier, I didn’t have long to really absorb your mama’s essence. Perhaps if you were to leave her pearls with me, I could concentrate my powers?’
‘Here’s your basket with our payment for the violets,’ Miriam said, appearing in the hallway.
‘I was just suggesting Isabella leave her mother’s necklace here until next time then I would have time to work my magic on them,’ Agnes laughed softly.
‘As long as Isabella feels she can trust us with her precious pearls,’ Miriam said, looking at Isabella for confirmation.
‘Of course, I do. Until next week then.’
‘Oh no, dear, we won’t be holding another until the last Friday in December. That’s the downside to our success rate, you see. Once we have satisfied our existing clients’ needs, we have to find new ones.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Isabella murmured. Although she was trying to follow their conversation, her head was spinning and she felt in desperate need of fresh air. Giving the sisters a shaky smile, she wrapped the proffered mantle around her shoulders and slowly went out through the open door.
Although the wind had dropped, rain was falling in sheets. Feeling slightly unsteady on her feet, she remembered to turn right then carefully made her way through the puddles, back towards the town. At least the route was familiar this time and with the lamplighter already about his work, the streets would all soon be lit. She put her hand to her head and wiped her brow, wondering how she could be feeling hot when the air was cold. Perhaps it was the tart she’d eaten, for although it had been delicious, she was no longer used to rich food. Her heart was beating rapidly and the blood pounded round her veins, which was at variance with her low mood. She’d been so sure her dear mama or papa would come through.
Making an effort to concentrate on where she was going, she finally found herself back in the Strand. The place was deserted apart from the lady from the stationer’s, who was taking in her sign. Hearing Isabella approach, she looked up, her welcoming smile quickly replaced by concern.
‘Are you all right?’ Isabella went to nod but the ground seemed to be swaying. ‘There now, I’ve got you,’ the woman said, putting one arm under hers and leading Isabella into the shop. ‘Gracious girl, you’re all flushed,’ she said, pulling out a chair from behind the counter and easing Isabella into it. ‘Looked out of the store at luncheon time but you were nowhere to be seen. Thought you must have gone home or been moved on.’ Before Isabella could reply, the doorbell jangled and the woman turned to see who had come in.
‘Hello Felix, I was just closing but . . . ,’ she began.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Spink. I was returning from the station, when I saw Isabella stumbling along the pavement. Are you all right?’ he asked, staring anxiously at Isabella. She took a deep breath and realized the wooziness was gradually beginning to clear.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I think it must have been something I ate.’
‘Could well be, you’re that green about the gills. Have a sip of water then take it easy for a few moments,’ the woman said, holding out a glass.
‘So, you took your flowers to the station here, then?’ the woman said, eyeing Felix curiously.
‘Yep, thought it better after yesterday. Give Frederick a chance to calm down,’ he replied. ‘Though it looks like I’ll be seeing him after all, for as soon as Isabella feels able to stand, I shall of course take her home.’
‘There really is no need,’ Isabella protested, struggling to her feet then promptly collapsing in a heap on the floor.